Forever and a Lifetime
by Melancholy-Arts
Summary: When they meet one night on the vast ship known as Titanic, both of their lives changed forever. From first meetings to falling in love, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland both find themselves caught in the clutches of what they long to have yet can't quite reach. Fate brought them together, and soon into the ships maiden voyage fate is the very thing that will tear them apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: **Cross-over, guy on guy, yaoi, Titanic

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia, Titanic, or any of the characters used

**Pairing: **USxUK [America x England]

**Summary: **When they meet one night on the vast ship known as Titanic, both of their lives changed forever. From first meetings to falling in love, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland both find themselves caught in the clutches of what they long to have yet can't quite reach—one being trapped in the rich, forced to wed kind of life, and the other in the poor, photographer for a living sort of life.  
Fate brought them together, and soon into the ships maiden voyage fate is the very thing that will tear them apart.

**Author's Notes: **This is a USUK Titanic cross-over, but it's no ordinary one. I started this kind of in a different spot than the movie, and I'm not actually following the _exact_ storyline either. I'm using the idea, but adding my own twist to it to jazz things up a bit and make it different and a little more original in a sense :) I do hope you enjoy, and yes, the picture for this story I drew myself. Also I must apologize for how short this first chapter is, it's just kind of the start to the actual story so I assure you the chapters will be getting longer as they are written.

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He stood upon the steps, looking up at the brilliantly decorated walls with a smile upon his tanned features. He was lost deep into thought, thinking things only he would know in that eccentric mind of his. It wasn't until a hand that was suddenly laid down gently upon his shoulder that his mind was disturbed and he came back to his senses of reality.

"Day dreaming, are we?"

The American couldn't help but grin wider from the sight of the man standing just behind him—the one he had fallen in love with not even days before coming here on this amazing, metal machine of parts and hard work. "Day dreaming is what I do best."

"You do it often enough," The Englishman smiled back in return, letting his hand slip from the man's shoulder as he took his place beside him on the flattened area, body facing the wall. Upon that very wall was a large clock adorned with specially made, probably hand-crafted, decorations of all sorts and shapes.

This ship was all so beautifully fabricated, save for the lower, poorer decks. Those… Those were nothing special.

"Mostly I'm thinking of you, but my mind does tend to wander away without my doing so," The bubbly blond merely shook his head, looking up at the same clock that Arthur was. "Don't you have a dinner date?"

"I sure wish I didn't."

"Think I want you to anymore than yourself?"

Arthur felt passionate, cerulean eyes upon him suddenly, but the Englishman refused to turn to look at his new-founded lover. "Point proven."

Alfred turned away after a moment, going back to gazing upon the timepiece that adorned the wall. His thoughts were all jumbled now, filled with envy and grief and hatred all at once. The man he had fallen in love with was already to be wed to a different man. All of this so his family could gain more fortune.

Arthur didn't even love the guy. How could he? He was some stuck up Frenchman with nothing but scorn lingering in his personality when no one was there to witness.

Alfred sighed then, moving and facing Arthur. Something about him had changed suddenly, and he seemed… 'Brighter,' in a sense.

"Promise me a night."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Promise me a night," The American repeated.

Arthur inquired further, "Whatever for?"

"Just do it!"

The Englishman sighed, and then looked up to the other man's eyes—green and blue clashing together to form a sea green as the two gazed at one another for what seemed like centuries. "I promise you a night, Alfred Jones."

"Then it's a date of our own, Mr. Kirkland. Tomorrow night, and don't you dare be late!" The American held out his hand, flashing such a brilliant smile that Arthur could almost feel his heart melting with what rare emotion he showed with anyone else—joy, happiness, ilove/i.

"I wouldn't dream of being late," He showed a small smile, though it didn't compare anywhere near to Alfred's, and took the man's hand firmly in his own.

Alfred's smile became more genuine at the male's words as he spoke them, and then dropped their brief handshake to pull Arthur into a more proper form of showing his love—an embrace in both arms and lips.

Just holding him there seemed to make time itself stop, make the world slow down to where all that was visible was just himself and the man in his arms he held so dearly. Having only met days before meant nothing now. It was as if they had known one another for eons, ages, centuries, or even a lifetime, and nothing could break such a strong bond that had formed.

When the embrace was broken, Arthur smiled up at the fellow blond and nodded his head, "I'll be there."

"Upper deck, back of the ship, evening when the sun is just setting. Perfect view in all directions," Alfred took a step back as he took a polite bow. "And good luck to you on your 'Dinner date.'"

"Oh yes, what fun I'll have!" The sarcasm in the Englishman's words dripped off like acid, but then he smiled. "I'll be seeing you, though hopefully sooner before out date?"

"Perhaps, though I can't guarantee. I do have a pretty busy schedule and all, Mr. Kirkland." The American pretended to look at his watch, taking on a snobby attitude as he impersonated one of the rich folk that currently were in living quarters on the ship.

Arthur shook his head, chuckling lightly as he covered his mouth to try to keep quiet. "I do hope you can make room in such a busy schedule for someone such as I."

"But only for you," Alfred winked, and then turned on his heel and headed down the stairs, turning some as he waved in farewell at the Englishman.

Arthur waved back, watching as the man he loved walked away until he was far and out of view.

A smile was upon both of their faces.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** Cross-over, guy on guy, yaoi, Titanic, car scene, Francis

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia, Titanic, or any of the characters used

**Pairing:** USxUK [America x England]

**Author's Notes:** This one is a little bit longer, like I said would happen. I don't know when I'll get around to the third chapter though, but do know that I am working on it.

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"A fool, that's what you are," The accent was heavy as it spoke the words. French. That's from where it hailed, but Arthur cared not for the man who spoke them. In fact, he hated the man more than anything.

"I'm the fool?" The Englishman retaliated. So much for a nice, calm dinner. Only fighting happened, and it didn't even wait either. Practically the moment they sat down at the table together it started up.

"Oui," The flamboyant blond rose to his feet and turned away from the table, saying nothing more as he stormed off and out of sight through the double doors, not wanting to hear anything more that Arthur may have to say to him.

Not like Arthur cared at all though. Good riddance. That French twit was nothing more than trouble.

He waited until Francis was out of view, and then rose to his feet himself and let out a long, much needed sigh. Being around such a stuck up man made him feel so restricted, and… Made him long to be with Alfred all the more. That man… He was a ireal/i man who knew where his heart was unlike Francis who only thought with his wallet it seemed. He wanted nothing more than to go hunt down the American right then and make not only tomorrow night theirs, but tonight theirs as well.

He decided against it though, figuring that that would only be troublesome; but waiting until around this time tomorrow? Absolute murder!

O~O~O

The wind was a strong blow on the back of the ship, making Alfred's hair fly around in every which direction the wind could force it to go in. It was the night of their 'date', but it seemed that, when Al looked at the time, that Arthur ended up being late despite the fact of him saying he wouldn't be.

He turned away, considering leaving to go look for him, when he saw someone fast approaching him. When the American squinted through his glasses to get a better view at the newcomer, he saw that it was Arthur. No need to go hunt him down now, he arrived after all and in one piece.

"I'm so sorry!" He called out as he grew closer, stopping and catching his breath some. From the looks of it, he ran to get there at least somewhat closer to the time he had to be there in the first place. "Francis…" He began to explain, until he was cut off kindly.

"No need to explain further," Alfred held up a hand, smiling lightly. "It's cool, really. I was more than willing to wait here all night for you, because I knew that you wouldn't break your promise to me."

The Englishman just smiled, watching the man before him as he spoke his forgiveness. His blue eyes had caught a soft shimmer from the light coming from the ship, and it just made him look all the more gorgeous than he already was. Arthur shook his head lamely when he realized that he was gawking—how silly of him to do such a thing.

Alfred offered out his hand to his English lover, smiling serenely to try and help lighten the mood a little, "All right, Mr. Kirkland, you promised me this night, so I'm going to promise you a wonderful evening."

"Well, whatever do you have planned for this evening, Mr. Jones?" Arthur took the offered hand, but in place of a smile he instead gave the man a curious eyebrow raise.

"That's a good question... So to savor the answer, you'll just have to wait and see," The American flashed a grin, and then leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of the Englishman's hand in a gentle peck of a kiss. When he lifted back up, he winked.

"In other words, you have no idea, do you?" Arthur smiled at the other male, amused at how easily he had called him out. Whether they did something or not though, just his company was good enough for the Englishman.

"Well, I was hoping we could…" Alfred's words trailed off as he thought about it some more. What was he planning? There were a lot of things they could do, but none of them seemed very appealing though, least not to him.

Arthur watched the American's face as the young man thought. What could they do without getting caught? Francis had this ship filled with some of his little spies that wherever the Englishman went he could find him with somewhat ease. That made him worried. What if the Frenchman found him _now_? Standing here with Alfred and holding hands, touching, alone. Surely something would go wrong with that picture in that man's neurotic mind.

"Hoping we could what?" Arthur gave a bemused look up to the man he was in company with.

But all of a sudden, almost as if on cue, a whistle blew somewhat near the duo as a sort of attention grabber, and when they turned to look… A man was walking toward them.

"You two! What is it you're doing back here?" He sounded mad, or irritated, either of the two emotions were currently present on the man's features as he continued to storm toward Arthur and Alfred.

The American however, having already bee holding the Englishman's hand, began to drag him away, "Sorry sir! We weren't aware that we weren't allowed back here." Nodding his head politely, he took Arthur away and passed the ship crewman whom was technically harassing the lovely couple.

"Wait a minute…" The crew member reached out a hand and stopped Alfred from going any further.

"Yes sir?" The American put on a face of concern, but in the eyes of Arthur he was fooling no one.

The crewman looked away from Alfred and to Arthur instead, raising a dark eyebrow, "Mr. Kirkland, right?" When he received a nod of acknowledgement, he continued on, "What are you doing here with this man out so late?" He glanced down at the two's intertwined fingers—his suspicions only grew worse.

"That is none of your concern," The Englishman moved, tightening his grip on Alfred's hand and forcing the way forward. "Now, if you'll excuse us." He muttered as he pushed his way past the crew member.

Alfred caught wind of what it was he was doing, and so took the lead.

However, the crewman didn't seem to like the sight of this, and so followed along persistently, "Mr. Kirkland, I don't think Mr. Bonnefoy would take too lightly to this at all."

"Well then Mr. Bonnefoy can just shove it, now can't he?" A snooty remark was most fitting for a snooty man such as Francis, and frankly, Arthur couldn't care less of that French frog. Engaged or not, he had no love nor respect for him.

The American, tired of just sitting around and allowing the word exchange to continue back and forth, became fed up and so tugged at Arthur's hand lightly. He gave him a wink, and then pulled him off into a run.

Running away from the questioning man was better than feeding him useless lies and stealing away their time together, right?

Or so it was in Alfred's mind.

Laughing some, the American continued to pull the suddenly distraught Englishman along behind him as a flustered crewman tried to pursue. "He was wasting our time, and that Francis guy… Forgot about him! This is _our_ night, and he wasn't invited!"

Arthur kept pace easily, only stumbling every so often, but when Alfred began to speak—or yell—back over his shoulder at him, he had a point. Talking was taking away their time, and Francis he needed to forget about for at least one night. He did promise the man currently holding his hand that this night was his and only his.

As they ran, dodging down below deck and through corridors every which way and stairs here and there, they long since lost the crewman whom gave them chase. Apparently he gave up on trying to catch them, and either went to go tell Francis, or just thought nothing of it. Arthur knew better though, and he knew that once this night was over the following day he'd get a tongue lashing from his fiancé.

But at that very moment, all Arthur could do was laugh as his American lover led him down never-ending corridors regardless of no chase ensuing. Then again, who knew if the man was still after them or not? Arthur couldn't really say for sure, so running was the best bet in either option it seemed.

Alfred slowed down some once they rounded a corner. By now they'd been through hallway after hallway, in and out of one of the elevators leading to the lower decks, down even more corridors, and now found themselves in the bottom of the ship where all the cargo was stored. Boxes and crates of all sizes lined the outer walls and were all neatly stacked in piles. Even a few cars were scattered about, and Alfred took his lover's hand, both of them tired from the amount of running and from the adrenaline that had pumped through their bodies, and took him over to the most appealing car he found—a Red Renault.

"I'm sure that guy isn't following us anymore now," Alfred released Arthur's hand as he examined the vehicle before him with curious, eager, blue eyes.

"Not now at least, been far too long," Arthur moved and joined him, only instead of examining the hunk of metal and décor he hopped up into the back seat—a back seat that looked to be fit for a royal. It was lined with brass trim and looked like something from one of the fairytale books Arthur used to read when he was younger.

As he perched himself on the seat, he straightened out his back and took on a snooty looking attitude as he feigned acting like a royal himself.

Alfred chuckled and joined him, plopping himself down in the driver's seat. The feel of the nicely upholstered seat, though not nearly as nice as the one Arthur was seated in just inside the vehicle, made the American blink from the sudden comfort. He wasn't expecting something so nice; then again, this was the car that belonged to one of the snoots above deck that lived in the 'nicer' section of cabins.

"Where too, Mr. Kirkland?" Alfred teased, playing along with the little act that Arthur had going on. Being in the drivers seat of such a car made him feel like he didn't belong in this sort of lifestyle, but it was fun to pretend nonetheless! He placed his hands on the wheel, getting the almost full effect.

"Why Mr. Jones, can you take me to the stars by chance?" Arthur peered at the other male through the open window, and before Alfred even had the chance to answer that, he was suddenly being pulled backwards.

The blond didn't know what was going on, until he felt the set of hands upon him and suddenly he was in the backseat with Arthur, who was merely smiling down at him.

They remained there, looking at one another and listening to the somewhat silence of the darkness they were surrounded by—only their breath making an audible noise, until Alfred shifted. The sound of fabric rubbing against fabric echoed in the smaller space as the American moved himself to better view his English lover beside him.

"Are you nervous?"

"With you? Of course not," Arthur merely smiled and leaned forward, bringing their lips together in a passionate moment. He was content with ending it there, until Alfred refused to pull away and suddenly this short embrace was going on for much longer than he had anticipated. He wasn't complaining, in fact, he welcomed it and even laid back best he could to allow the American to get into a much more comfortable position.

O~O~O

A thin layer of fog covered the inside of the windows of the Red Renault, and one would may have thought that just the cold from being so low and the heat from the boilers just above would have played some sort of part in this strange phenomena—until a hand reached up, palm hitting the back window as a wave of ecstasy washed over the owner. The hand was smeared down, stealing the fog from its place as the limb disappeared from sight almost just as suddenly as it had appeared in the first place.

O~O~O

Inside of the vehicle Arthur was lying down on the backseat, Alfred on top of him and both males partially clothed and limbs intertwined with one another.

Arthur raised his hand and rested it upon the American's cheek, checking to ensure that this was no daring dream of his—this was real. A reality that the Englishman thought would never exist within his own lifetime, with him actually living it. If anything, this was a dream come true.


End file.
